


the fear of being forgiven

by Arzani



Series: the world in balance [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: I couldn't stop thinking about Luke Arnold's words, that he thinks Silver was most afraid when Flint forgave him too easily.Also I just wanted to see if I'm still able to write...---------------Thomas sat a little straighter and smoothed his plain cotton shirt. His eyes never left Silver’s face. “Mr. Silver. I never wanted a war and I told James exactly that, once I could. You have no reason to apologize to me. If you wish to say sorry, please do to the right man.”With those words he stood, attempting to leave the room and give the man time to sleep and heal. But he stopped in the middle of his way to the door, as he heard whispered words, barely loud enough to understand.“I will leave tomorrow morning.”





	the fear of being forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if all of this makes sense... but well.  
> Also I'm somehow in love with J/T/J  
> this is also not betaed... forgive me.  
> Writing is hard sometimes.

It rained heavy drops. They cracked against the windows of their small cottage and left pattern like on a tear-streaked face. It was a heavy contrast against the crackling fire that warmed their small parlor. It was nothing big, tiny compared to what Thomas had owned back when he had been a lord still. But it didn’t matter to him. Because it was his home, and everything would be enough, as long as James was next to him.

They read. Silently, and yet full of conversation. Every once in a while, one of them would look up, smile and quote a particular passage to the other. Or share their opinion on the written word. It was interesting to hear a different opinion towards your own thoughts sometimes. Some weeks ago they each had read the respectively other book.

Night was slowly creeping in, darkening the outside, while the fire illuminated the room well enough to not need other sources of light. They would soon settle into bed, snuck kisses and touches under the cover of their blankets. Feel the other up, make them theirs, share what had been robbed from them for over a decade.

Or so Thomas thought. Then it knocked on the door. Once. Twice. A third time. Silence followed, only the rain drops hit the glass in a steady rhythm. Then a thump echoed through from behind the door, like a body hitting the ground. The following silence was hollow.

* * *

Dark, damp locks, sun-kissed skin and the face of an angel, hidden under an unkempt beard. Thomas knew why James had fallen in love with John Silver. The man was beautiful and looked so innocent in his sleep. His pain-filled wrinkles had eased out over the night, his harsh panting had soothed into soft breathing. The night was not over yet, but he would survive. James and he hadn’t been so sure about that a few hours ago.

Fishing for the cool rag in a water-filled bowl, Thomas wrung out the fabric and dapped Silver’s forehead with it. The sweat-pearls vanished under the ministration, while his mind wandered. James had transformed at the sight of his former quartermaster, bloody and unconscious on their doorstep. His face had hardened, but Thomas knew it was to hide the panic. Whatever his partner had told him about Silver, whatever James had believed, he still cared for the man. After all this time, he still did. Thomas knew he always would.

A sigh escaped him. He was glad James was finally asleep. Or at least pretending to. Thomas wasn’t sure if sleep could come at such circumstances. He, for sure, wouldn’t be able to.

Maybe it was the dawning morning, the few light that illuminated the room, and Thomas’ own sleep-deprived mind, or maybe it was just because his mind was not with him but the man he loved, but he didn’t immediately recognized when John Silver woke up. A rumbling timbre, though, made his head jerk to the bed in their second bed-room. A ruse to keep up the image of cousins. What a farce to fool the world.

“You’re Thomas Hamilton.”

The words startled him, but only for a moment. Then Thomas was captivated by ocean-blue eyes. James had never talked much about Silver, and Thomas had not pressed. It was seldom that the name of James’ former quartermaster slipped. While telling a story about a long-forgotten life. While reminiscing the old days. It was on such an occasion that he had compared John Silver’s eyes to the ocean. Blue and deep and always changing. Thomas had not believed him, until now.

“I am sorry.”

An exhausted breath rushed out of his lungs, his eye-lids closed. When Thomas opened them again, the blue of the ocean was still there, but he had managed to swim. Automatically he slipped the rag back into the bowl, and adjusted his seat on the chair he was sitting on.

“I am sure the wounds on your body are not your fault. It’s foolish to apologize for a deed not done by yourself,” Thomas said and watched Silver wince.

“It’s not what I’m apologizing for.” His voices sounded strained, as if it took him great effort to say the words, and a part of Thomas was sure it did. Apologizing never came easy, and what he had gathered from James’ few stories it definitely didn’t come easy to John Silver. So he stayed silent, as he was sure more words would follow.

“I betrayed him. I hurt him and ended his cause. Your cause. I’m sorry. I truly am sorry,” John continued, as Thomas had predicted, and if he was not mistaken the man tried hard to keep tears at bay. They shimmered traitorously in the corners of his eyes.

Thomas sat a little straighter and smoothed his plain cotton shirt. His eyes never left Silver’s face. “Mr. Silver. I never wanted a war and I told James exactly that, once I could. You have no reason to apologize to me. If you wish to say sorry, please do to the right man.”

With those words he stood, attempting to leave the room and give the man time to sleep and heal. But he stopped in the middle of his way to the door, as he heard whispered words, barely loud enough to understand.

“I will leave tomorrow morning.”

Turning, Thomas frowned. He had never seen someone being more broken and for a brief moment he wondered what had happened to the feared pirate king, to crush him like this.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Silver even added. It made Thomas snort.

“You have to bear my hospitality for a while longer. These wounds aren’t healed, yet,” he stated firmly, and something in Thomas’ face must have shown his determination, because John flinched at the words. When he left the room to join James in bed, Thomas was sure that John Silver would still be there the next morning.

* * *

John Silver was there the next morning. And the next and then the next. A week passed and John Silver still hadn’t left the house, even though he had been able to leave bed. Thomas was sure the cuts all over his back and stomach weren’t healed yet, but no noise of pain left John’s mouth, so there was nothing he could do.

When James had asked who had done this to John, the man had only answered that the affair was settled and didn’t need to be addressed. While Thomas was less than satisfied, James told him to leave it at that. It was a story not worth to tell, a part too honest and true for a man consisting of lies to talk about. The pirate king was a closed book and it was a hard lesson for Thomas to learn, that no words in the world allowed him to open it.

“Have you two finally talked?” Thomas asked in a quiet moment. They were alone in the parlor while John cooked dinner. He had since he was back on his feet, had insisted, despite the first irritation and then teasing of James. It seemed the man had improved since the first meeting between former captain and quartermaster.

“We talk a lot, haven’t you seen?” James replied casually, voice too smooth to be genuine. It made Thomas sigh, and he leaned over a little, took his arm from James’ shoulder to pick the book from his lap and put it on the near-by table. Then he tilted James’ chin to make him look into his eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean. Please, James you’re suffering and he is, too,” Thomas said in a whisper, his thumb cradling the stubble on his chin. A slash of pain rushed through him when James averted his gaze. He would have probably turned away, had he the chance. It was not what Thomas had hoped for, so he pressed on.

“I know it will hurt. But it can’t heal, when you two don’t get down to the root of your pain. You two deserve better.” It was strange to hear his own voice sounding strained. Since when had Thomas started to care for John Silver as much as he cared for James?

Tears filled the emerald eyes of his lover, let James’ eyes shimmer beautifully sad. One rolled down his cheek when he closed them briefly. “It’s not the pain,” James whispered. “I’d gladly take all the pain in the world to erase this… wall between him and me. But I’m afraid when I say something that he leaves. And I can’t bear that thought, Thomas. I can’t.”

Their foreheads touched and Thomas could feel the shudder running through James’ body. His words had left him cold, and only the warmth of the other man’s body told him he was still alive. Still here. He didn’t understand what exactly James meant with his words, only that this went deeper than he had thought.

How long they stayed like this was out of Thomas’ grasp. He just knew when he let go of their embrace, he spotted John in the door frame leading to the kitchen, looking at them. And every fiber of his posture emitted sadness.

* * *

At first glance the dinner went as always. It wasn’t overly joyous but there wasn’t the tension Thomas had expected. What he indeed realized though, was how good at acting both James and John were. In their own ways, but good nonetheless. It scared him, because he couldn’t say how long the two were able to keep the charade up. The charade of acting as everything was alright while nothing was.

The next day went on as normal as the day before. James was occupied on their small farm and Thomas went to town to work in a small shop. It sold books, next to other various items, which had probably been the sole reason for Thomas to accept the offer of employment. When he arrived home, he found John sitting on their settee, one of their books on his lap, the crutch leaning against the piece of furniture next to him. At a closer look Thomas realized the book to be their copy of “Meditations”. It wasn’t the one he had given James years ago. That book was forever lost.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asked, carefully. He sat himself in an arm chair opposite from the settee, to look at the man. He wasn’t reading, no matter it looked like it. Instead his fingers brushed the pages as if they were a real treasure. But what concerned him were the dark rings under John’s eyes.

Silence followed the question, and for a moment Thomas believed he would never get an answer, when John looked up from the book. Something painful rushed through Thomas’ body at the sight. It was the frightening knowledge that he was pained by the pain he saw. It meant he cared. It meant he had given a piece of his heart and he couldn’t remember why or when that happened.

“Are you happy?” John asked, a strange question considering the moment. Or maybe not. Thomas’ thoughts whirled as he tried to find an appropriate answer.

“I’d say that depends on your definition of happiness. Is happiness something short term or long term? Because my answer differs regarding how you view it.” It was the most honest answer Thomas could give and he waited for a reaction. It was certainly not what the other man had expected, because he staggered visibly, eyes flicking over Thomas’ face as if searching for the lie.

“Tell me both,” John finally said, when he seemingly found none. Thomas leaned back.

“I’m allowed to live my life with the man I love, again. I am sure I couldn’t be happier. But at the moment I am also concerned.” The shadow that crossed John’s face was unmistakable yet short. A clear indication Thomas had said something wrong. So he tried to fix his mistake. “John, you are welcome here. Don’t forget that.”

John’s shoulders sacked down, as if he was beaten. His hand reached for his crutch, while the other closed the book on his lap. With nimble movements he stood, despite his missing leg. “I know. Thank you for your hospitality.” And then he walked out of the room, Meditations still in his hand.

* * *

It was the first night in a long while that Thomas just found no sleep. It had happened regularly while living in the plantation, especially in the beginning, when he feared his father would come to get him back to Bethlehem. Then it eased and stopped when someone told him his father was dead, until he was reunited with James. Sleep was so unnecessary when he could spend his time with looking at the soft features of a man he loved. But eventually he realized that James would not vanish the moment he closed his eyes and sleep had come back to him, again.

Now he lay awake, pretending to sleep, while he knew James did the same next to him. When the door to the second bedroom creaked, it wasn’t even a surprise. Soft, almost silent thumping told him that John was up, as was the rest of the house. Still, it startled him when James pushed back the covers to stand up.

“James?” he asked into the darkness but didn’t get an immediate answer. Instead James reached for his trousers and slipped into them, before he leaned down to press a kiss to his hairline.

“It’s nothing.”

It was a sweet lie, but a lie nonetheless and the moment James was out of the door, Thomas stood up, too, to slip into his trousers and follow his lover. He heard him speak in the hallway.

“Don’t do this to me, John.”

James’ voice was filled with misery and drew Thomas closer. The only light in the house was coming from the moon. It was a bright night and nothing filtered the silver light from illuminating the furniture and two figures standing face to face. They were so beautiful, both of them, it almost hurt to look at them directly.

“I can’t! James, I can’t stay and betray you again and again, while you forgive me all the time,” John answered and his voice sounded chocked. Only now Thomas realized the duffel bag at his feet, the one that had contained the few things John owned. If he would look up at the room, Thomas was certain he would find it empty.

“That’s not true.”

James stepped forward with the words and no matter John flinched, he wasn’t moving. But he lifted his one hand, before he let it fall back. It was a helpless gesture, torn between different urges. Probably to pull and to push.

“Not true?” Silver said, his voice mixed with a sob and a laugh. It was an ugly, painful sound. “I’m no good person. I would betray you again, somehow, and I can’t let that happen. You don’t deserve that, the two of you.”

His eyes flickered to Thomas, who still stood some meters away, watching them. He hadn’t thought the two had recognized him, but obviously they had. But he would not move, couldn’t even if he wanted to. James saved him an answer.

“No, we don’t. But I doubt it would come to it. I know you, John and I don’t want you to leave.” The words sounded strained to Thomas’ ear, and he watched helplessly as John stepped back. The crutch sounded loudly on the floor.

“No. You don’t know me. I’m not the world in balance. I’m not… we were not…,” John almost cried, voice wavering, sentence left unfinished. Thomas had no idea what John was referring to, but James seemed to know, because he didn’t hesitate to step forward and cup John’s face. For a moment Thomas believed John would back away, but he didn’t. Instead he closed his eyes, exhausted.

“I wanted you and Madi to be happy. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. But I am not sorry you’re here.”

“She couldn’t forgive me for ending the war,” John said and a tear rolled down his cheek. James thumbed it away. Didn’t speak, to give John the time to continue. “I let her go, so she could be happy. But you…” He stopped, opened his eyes and the blue seemed almost white under the light of the moon. “You always forgive me. You shouldn’t. Why aren’t you angry with me?”

Now it was James’ time to give a strange, painful laugh. His hand dropped from John’s jaw, settled next to his side loosely hanging. “I was angry. God, I was so angry with you. You robbed me my war, forced me into chains and shipped me to don’t know where to supposedly reunite me with someone I knew was dead. I’m sure you very well remember my struggles.”

It was the first time Thomas heard James speak about what happened back then like this. Sure, he knew about the end of the maroon war, he knew about John’s so-called betrayal but it had always lacked emotion. This, though, was filled with it.

“But then, when we arrived in Savannah, Thomas was really alive and suddenly I couldn’t hold the supposed lie against you, anymore. I clung to the cause you had robbed me until Thomas told me very plainly he never had wanted a war. I would have never stopped and I had no right to use Thomas’ name to cause so much pain and destruction. But I was still angry. Something still fucking hurt and,” he chocked, caught for breath and Thomas knew how hard it was for James to say those words. It was visible in his clenched fist, the tight jaw. Thomas already knew what would follow. Had known it for quite a while, never really realizing it. It seemed James had not either. “and I realized I was angry because you left me alone.”

John’s eyes widened in shock or surprise. It wasn’t easy to tell in the moonlight, but Thomas knew it was not what the man had believed to hear. His whole body sacked a little, shook slightly and a hand rose to… do whatever. Before he could finish the movement, it fell again.

“So you forgave me,” John whispered and bit his lip. “You always forgive me. You shouldn’t. I’m not a good ma-“

“Stop!” James interrupted him, reached for his wrist and pulled at it a little. The force pulled John forward and he would probably have fallen, without James’ steady hands. The other hand had shot up to press against John’s chest and he winced in pain. Thomas had known his cuts weren’t fully healed.

“No, you’re not a good man. I never said that. But I am no good man either. We both killed and we both betrayed. Stop your fucking self-flagellation. I forgave you because I saw your reasons and understood. I forgave you because I love you, but it doesn’t mean I will forgive everything you do.”

James’ voice had become louder with each word, anger seeping into it. With his furrowed brows and tense shoulders Thomas understood why people feared Captain Flint so much. It was the firm determination and the steel-like edge in James’ every fiber when he had set his mind on something. Even John responded to it, but unlike Thomas would have thought he would. Instead to cower or flinch, John seemed to be drawn to James, his face open and pained, but a layer, a mask crumbling.

“You love me,” John whispered and while James cursed – “You stupid little shit!” – Thomas realized love was something John had never considered. Maybe never even grasped until now.

“Of course I do. I always did. But if you think I will forgive you for sneaking away in the middle of the night and breaking my and Thomas’ heart you’re fucking mistaken,” he rasped. Thomas was even sure the vein at James’ temple pulsed. It was more of a surprise than the inclusion of him. James wasn’t stupid and had probably realized before Thomas how much he cared for John.

“I didn’t…” John said, after the following silence filled the room for too long, meekly. “I love you, too.”

“Good!” It was a growl, and when James used his hand on John’s wrist to pull him towards his chest, wrap his arms around him and kiss him fiercely, Thomas sighed, smiling. Good god, finally. He hadn’t believed it would come to this revelation tonight, but he was glad they had finally managed to tell each other their feelings. It was also a relieve to know that seeing James kiss John didn’t stir jealousy in him. Instead he felt that the only excuse to stop looking would be to join in.

When they let go, both panted heavily and John clung to James, like he was drowning and James was his drift-wood in the wide ocean. His eyes looked up to him, his lips shimmering silver in the moonlight. It was a sight to behold, and arousal stirred in Thomas. If only watching was this arousing he had a good idea what was going on between them.

“Do you two want me to get oil for you?” Thomas asked mischievously into the silence that was filled with heavy breaths. While John’s face darkened, embarrassed, James’ growled.

“Yes!” he said and added, after he had pressed John even closer to his body. “Do you give us the first night alone?”

Walking up to the two men, Thomas first kissed James on the mouth, a heated, sloppy kiss and then John on his hairline. The curls tickled his nose. “Of course,” he smiled and then made his way to the parlor. But before he vanished through the door, he turned once again, adding, “But only the first night.”


End file.
